Queer Eye for the Straight Mutant
by Cygna Vamp
Summary: The Brotherhood Boarding House and inhabitants get make overs


Queer Eye For The Straight Mutant  
  
A/N: I want to apologize for the stereotypical behavior my character's use. However, this is how  
  
they actually act on the show! This is pre-Togue, btw, for fans of my other X Evo fics.  
  
Lance sat on the couch, flipping through the channels. Nothing good on. Fred sat next to   
  
him, stuffing junk food in his mouth.The doorbell rang. "Get the door, Tubby."  
  
"Get it yourself!"  
  
Lance grumbled as he went to answer the door. "If it's those damn Jehova's Witnesses again,  
  
I'm gonna rock their world!" Lance opened the door to find 4 men he didn't know and a camera crew. "What the hell do you want?"  
  
"Hi," said a tall man with dark hair. "I'm Jean-Paul Beabier." He had a French-Canadian   
  
accent. "And your house and inhabitants have been selected to be on Queer Eye For The Straight Guy!   
  
Isn't that super?"  
  
Lance slammed the door in Jean-Paul's face. He felt a tap on his shoulder. It was Jean-Paul.  
  
Damn! Lance thought. This guy has to be faster than Pietro to pull that! Jean-Paul opened the   
  
door, letting the rest in. "Allow me to introduce my colleagues." he said.   
  
"This is Michael, this is David, and this is Jeremiah. And here's our lovely camera crew! Phil,  
  
be a darling and pan over this dump, will you?" The cameraman filmed the interior of the living room.  
  
"Ooh," squealed Jeremiah. "Don't we have our work cut out for us!"  
  
"Oh, yes." Michael stroked his goatee as he looked about. "I'm thinking of painting these   
  
dingy walls a soothing shade of periwinkle and putting up some pretty paintings. Make it look more   
  
like a home."  
  
David looked at Fred, still gorging himself on the couch. He made a 'tsk, tsk' sound. "I'm  
  
sorry, but that shabby, lumpy thing has /got/ to go!"  
  
"Hey!" said Lance. "You can't talk about Fred like that!"  
  
"I was referring to your couch."  
  
Michael gave Lance a critical look. "Lance, is it?" he asked distastefully. "Well, Lance,   
  
the 80's called. They want their look back."  
  
Before Lance could reply, Pietro zipped down the stairs. "Ah, good, they're here." he said.  
  
"/You/ invited these jackasses?" Lance snapped.  
  
"Well, let's face it. The place could use a spruce up."  
  
"Spruce up! Pietro, is there something you're not telling us?"  
  
"Omygawd!" gasped Jeremiah. "He's /gorgeous/!"  
  
"This," said Jean-Paul. "Is how you should dress, Lance."  
  
"He's perfect!" said Michael.  
  
"I know, I know." Pietro said smuggly.  
  
"I wouldn't touch him!" said David.  
  
"Oh, I might." said Jeremiah, giving Pietro's rear end a pinch.  
  
Todd came hopping down the stairs. He took in the strange visitors. "What's happening, yo?"  
  
He saw the camera crew. "Are we on /Cops/ again?" Jean-Paul and friends leered over at Todd.   
  
"Uh, what?"  
  
"MAKEOVER!!!" the four of them chorused.  
  
"Huh? What?" Todd was confused. "I don't wanna be made over!" He tried to hop away, but   
  
they caught him.   
  
"David, Michael," said Jean-Paul. "You get to work on the living room with Pietro and that  
  
burly fellow. Jeremiah, help Lance update his wardrobe and I'll get to work on this little fussbudget."  
  
"Listen, yo," Todd said as Jean-Paul dragged him to the kitchen. "Forget about giving me a  
  
makeover. You know what they say. You can't shine shit."  
  
"Oh, babydoll," Jean-Paul sighed, taking Todd's hands. "Don't /ever/ think of yourself that way!"  
  
"Did you just call me 'babydoll'?"  
  
"You're Todd, right? You have very pretty hands, Todd."  
  
"I-uh-you really think so?" Todd didn't get complimented often.  
  
"They're lovely!" said Jean-Paul. "The fingers are tapered nicely, they're very symetrical  
  
I just think they'd look nicer if you pampered them a little, got a nice mani-aaaaaaaaaaaaaahhh!!!!!!!" Jean-Paul shrieked when he got a good look at Todd's nails.  
  
"What?"  
  
"You-you /bite/ your nails?" he said in a tone of voice reserved for phrases such as "You   
  
/eat/ your children?"  
  
"Only when I'm upset, yo."  
  
"Girlfriend, /nothing/ is this upsetting."  
  
"Did you just call me 'girlfriend'?"  
  
"Now, you just sit right here, Todd." Jean-Paul made Todd sit at the kitchen table. "I'm   
  
going to whip up a skin-nourishing sugar scrub, then we're going to clip those nails and file   
  
them into attractive pear shapes."  
  
"Pear shapes?"  
  
"And then we are going to baby those cuticles!"  
  
"Cuticles?"  
  
Jeremiah took Lance upstairs to his room with a couple of valises. Jeremiah opened them.   
  
Inside were several neatly folded and pressed garments. "You just start trying these on, sugar." he said.  
  
"Don't call me sugar." Lance picked out a shirt and squinted at it. He sighed and took off  
  
his vest. "Um, you mind giving me a little privacy, Jeremiah?"  
  
"What? We're both guys here."  
  
"Just-get out, OK?"  
  
"Fine then." Jeremiah sniffed and walked out. "How's the living room coming?" he called   
  
from the top of the stairs.  
  
"We've laid down some newspaper." said David. "So we're ready to start painting."  
  
"Allow me." said Pietro, taking up a paint can and brush. In 5 seconds, he had the whole   
  
room painted periwinkle. "Now all we have to do is let it dry. That takes soooo long!"  
  
"Oh, I know it!" said Michael. "That gives us time to pick out furniture, drapes, paintings.  
  
..we'll just fix the whole place up!"  
  
"Lance should be done changing." said Jeremiah. He opened the door. "Oh Lancey!"  
  
"Augh!" Lance hastily zipped his pants. "Don't you ever fucking knock? And don't call me   
  
Lancey!"  
  
"Oh, you silly goose!" Jeremiah laughed. "Let's see," Jeremiah looked at Lance. He wore a   
  
silky burgundy shirt, pressed white slacks and white loafers. "Beautiful! But you forgot   
  
to accessorize." He took a couple of gold chains out of one of the valises.  
  
"I am not wearing jewelry!"  
  
"It's nothing tacky." Jeremiah insisted. "Just a little something to set off that charming   
  
face of yours." Jeremiah put the necklace on Lance and led him downstairs. "Here he is! Isn't he  
  
scrumptious?"  
  
"Jeremiah, you've done it again!" said David. "He's beautiful!"  
  
"Ooh, I could just eat him up!" said Michael.  
  
"The hell you are!" Lance snapped. "And I really don't care for this outfit." He scratched  
  
at it. "It itches!"  
  
"Blasphemy!" gasped Jeremiah. "That's raw silk!"  
  
"Well, maybe you should cook it!"  
  
"Talking about cooking makes me hungry." said Fred.  
  
"Everything makes you hungry, Lardbutt!" said Lance.  
  
"Come along, children." said David. "I have a van full of gorgeous accoutraments to move   
  
in here."  
  
Meanwhile, Jean-Paul was tending to Todd's nails with an emery board. "For future reference,"   
  
Jean-Paul was saying. "Always file in one direction, like this."  
  
"You ain't gonna paint them are you?"  
  
"Not unless you want me to. Now, lets soak our little cuticles in the olive oil."   
  
Todd begrudgingly imersed his fingers in the dish of olive oil. "I feel so stupid." he groaned.  
  
"Don't feel stupid! Feel pretty!" Jean-Paul took a close look at Todd. "Say, are you sure   
  
you're a teenager?"  
  
"Um...why do you ask?"   
  
"Because you're skin is flawless! How do you do it?"  
  
"Uh, I dunno. Probably has something to do with my mutation."  
  
"Skin that lovely /must/ be allowed to glow! I'll whip you up a nice avocado skin peel,   
  
but first.." Jean-Paul stood behind him and took out a comb. He went to work on Todd's hair.   
  
"When was the last time you combed this rat's nest?"  
  
"I dunno, last week, I guess."  
  
"Last week!" Jean-Paul continued combing. "My stars! Such pretty hair and you abuse it so!"  
  
"My hair ain't pretty!"  
  
"It would be if you give it a chance! Now, I think an egg rinse would put in some highlights  
  
and just make you sparkle!"  
  
"Sparkle?"  
  
"Like a diamond! Before this day is out this little Toad's gonna be a prince! Oh yes he is!"  
  
Meanwhile, Fred was hauling their tattered old furniture out of the house and replacing it   
  
with the black laquer furniture supplied by QEftSG. "Ooh, he's so strong!" said David.  
  
"Mmm...I knew there was a reason I like them big!" said Jeremiah.  
  
"I'd like to say," said Michael. "That I love, love /love/ this stained glass window you have  
  
on your front door."  
  
"Came with the house." Lance shrugged.   
  
"I think we should stick with that floral motif." Michael continued. "So I got you some   
  
curtains with a forget-me-not print and a copy of Van Gough's /Irises/, framed, natch. Lance,   
  
be a darling and help me hang these curtains."  
  
"Oh, alright." He got on the stepstool and started hanging the curtains. Michael stood   
  
behind him and enjoyed the view. David came in with a potted tree. "We're gettin' some weed in here?"  
  
asked Lance. "Now /that's/ my idea of redecorating!"  
  
"It's not 'weed'." said David. "It's a ficus. It's pretty to look at and it replenishes the  
  
oxygen in a room. And I think a vase of fresh cut petunias would brighten that corner up."  
  
"Petunias?" Lance injected.  
  
"Do you perfer lillies then?"  
  
"I don't like any kind of flowers!"  
  
"But flowers give color to the world!"  
  
"If I want colors, I'll get a box of crayons!"  
  
"You're being negative, Lancey!"  
  
"Alright! That does it!" The ground began to tremble.  
  
"No!" said Michael. "You'll tear up the carpet!"  
  
"It needs to be taken up any way." said David. "It's worn clear through."  
  
"That's my bad." Pietro confessed. "High-speeds do wear out the threads. Lance, calm down   
  
for a moment and tell me which you like better." He held up two paintings. "The sad clown or the  
  
kids with the giant eyes?"  
  
"I hate both of them!" Lance snapped. "And I hate this damned shirt too!" He ripped it off.  
  
"Woo hoo!" cheered Jeremiah. "Take it all off, baby!"  
  
"Fuck you all." Lance stormed out the door.  
  
"Was that an invitation?" asked Michael.  
  
"I didn't care for him." said David. "He was rather rude."  
  
"I'm still hungry." said Fred.  
  
In the kitchen, Jean-Paul mashed up an over-ripe avacado while Todd assessed his situation.  
  
"Let's see, I've got egg and lemon juice in my hair. Sugar and olive oil on my hands. I'm about   
  
to have avacado on my face. What's next? Baste me and bake me at 350?"  
  
"Oh, hush," said Jean-Paul. "And you've soaked long enough. Take your fingers out and I'll  
  
push back the cuticles."  
  
Jean-Paul covered a finger with a terrycloth rag and went to work on Todd's cuticles. "I   
  
feel like a caesar salad, yo." he said.  
  
"I feel like a caesar salad too." said Fred, entering the kitchen. "We got any?" He spied  
  
the bowl of mashed avacado. "Oh boy! Guachamole!" He grabbed a bag of corn chips and prepared to  
  
dig in. Jean-Paul slapped his hand.  
  
"No! That's going on Todd's face!"  
  
"I never thought I'd say this." said Fred. "But I just lost my appetite!"  
  
In the living room Pietro was giving his opinion on floors. "I perfer hardwood floors. With  
  
a nice rug to set it all off."  
  
"I think the feng shui of this room is a bit off." said David. "Whta you need is to move the  
  
couch over there to welcome peace into your home and maybe a miniature fountain about here."  
  
They spent the next few minutes rearranging the furniture and redecorating.   
  
"Gentlemen," said Jean-Paul. "My I present the new and improved Todd Tolensky!" Todd looked  
  
a little cleaner and his hair was neater.  
  
"Very nice." Pietro said appreciativly.  
  
"I still think it was a waste of perfectly good guachamole." Fred groaned.  
  
"We're off to the mall now to re-do his wardrobe. Jeremiah, you're the fashion maven so you  
  
come with me." Jeremiah clapped his hands with glee. "I love what you've done with the place! Uh,  
  
where's Lancey?"  
  
"He came out." said Pietro. Everyone laughed. "Anyway, we're thinking about stripping the  
  
carpet up and varnishing the floor."  
  
"After you've laid out the furniture?"  
  
"Hey, that's what I'm here for." said Fred.  
  
"Good! That means you get to watch the male strippers."  
  
"Ooh, Jean-Paul!" squealed Jeremiah. "You are so /bad/!"  
  
"Where do you usually shop for clothes, Todd?" Jean-Paul asked as they entered the mall. Todd  
  
just shrugged.  
  
"Let me guess." said Jeremiah. "Your favorite designer is 'Clearance'."  
  
"That and Good Will." said Todd.  
  
"Well, Todd," said Jean-Paul. "The folks from Queer Eye are going to provide you with good  
  
clothes and make a little Cinderella out of you."  
  
"Um, I thought I was gonna be the prince." Todd saw where the two were taking him. "Ohhh-  
  
no! You're not taking me in there! No way! Uh-uh! No sir!"  
  
"It's just the Gap." said Jeremiah.  
  
"I wouldn't be caught dead inside the Gap!"  
  
"Well, we're going." said Jean-Paul.  
  
"Uh-uh! Can't make me!" The two of them forcibly picked him up. Todd clenched onto the doorway  
  
with his fingers. "Noooo!" he screamed. "Anything but the Gap!"  
  
"Todd, please." said Jean-Paul. "You'll ruin your manicure!"  
  
Minutes later, Todd came out of the dressing room neatly dressed but very cross. "I feel   
  
like a complete tool." He complained.  
  
"Nonsense!" said Jeremiah. "You look lovely!" Todd was wearing brand new stone washed jeans  
  
and a crisp buttoned green and white checked shirt.  
  
"Can't I at least tear holes in 'em? My knees are suffocating, yo!"  
  
"Knees don't breathe, you silly goose!" said Jeremiah.  
  
"Did you just call me a goose?"  
  
Jean-Paul looked him over critically. "What we can do," he said. "Is undo the top two buttons,  
  
like so." he demonstrated. "And we show just a teensy bit of collar bone."  
  
"I say why stop there?" said Jeremiah. "Todd, undo 3 buttons, get a nice gold bauble to   
  
accentuate everything and see if you can't find some tighter pants. I say if you got it, flaunt it!"  
  
"And I say he should leave something to the imagination." said Jean-Paul.  
  
"Jean-Paul, you are such a prude!"  
  
"No I'm not! You're a slut puppy!"  
  
"I'm a what?"  
  
"Please don't fight, Mommy and Daddy." Todd deadpanned. "It makes me sad."  
  
Their next stop was Ambercombie&Fitch. "They have the same crap here they had at the Gap,  
  
yo!" said Todd. "It just says 'Ambercombie&Fitch'."  
  
"Yes," said Jean-Paul. "But Jeremiah and I just love their advertising!"  
  
"Uh, yeah," Todd had a look around. "Whose bright idea was it to sell shirts by showing  
  
pictures of guys with no shirts?"  
  
"Oh, you silly goose!" squeeled Jeremiah.  
  
"Now to get you some more formal wear." said Jean-Paul, ushering him into a department store.  
  
Todd looked at one of the labels. "Prada. That must be Italian for 'You can't afford this'."  
  
"This is Queer Eye!" said Jean-Paul. "We have no budget!"  
  
"Remember, Todd." said Jeremiah. "Never actually put on the sports jacket. Sling it over   
  
one shoulder."  
  
They came back to the Boarding House. The living room was unrecognizable. "Omygod!" said  
  
Jean-Paul. "It's gorgeous!" The varnished hardwood floor was set off by a cornflower blue rug.  
  
The black laquer furniture shone. The clean walls were adorned with tasteful paintings. "Phil!  
  
get a good pan-over!" said Jean-Paul. "And get a good shot of Todd! Ooh, the before and after  
  
pictures will be stunning!"  
  
Just then, Wanda came in. "Oops, sorry." she said. "I got the wrong house."  
  
"You're in the right house, sis." said Pietro. "We just got a little redecorating from   
  
Queer Eye for the Straight Guy."  
  
"Looks good." Wanda appreciated the improvments. "So, who are those guys?"  
  
"Wanda, meet Jean-Paul, Jeremiah, David and Michael."  
  
"And who's the little guy?"  
  
"Dammit!" shouted Todd. "It doesn't matter if I get made over, I'm still the short guy!"  
  
"TODD?!?!" Wanda gasped.  
  
"Yep."  
  
"I can't believe it!" said Wanda. "You look great! OK, you're still short, but at least  
  
you're presentable. Hell, I might even think about going out with you!" Just then, a fly drawn  
  
by the paint and varnish fumes hovered over Todd's head. The Tongue snapped out and it was gone.  
  
"On second thought, a toad in Prada is still just a toad!"   
  
As soon as the camera crew left, Todd, Wanda and Pietro sat on their black leather sofa.   
  
Fred took the matching Barkalounger. "Well," said Todd. "If Wanda's still not gonna go out with  
  
me..." He ruffled his fingers through his hair and tore holes in the knees of the $80 slacks.  
  
"Dear Lord! What are you doing?" Pietro shrieked.  
  
"Just bein' me." Todd propped his feet up on the laquer coffee table.  
  
Fred picked up the remote. "Is wrestlin' on yet?" 


End file.
